


I'll Eat Your Heart Out, Sir

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bodily Fluids, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Masturbation, I'm messing heavily with consent, Imperiused Sex, M/M, Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Professor Harry, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spit As Lube, This messes heavily with consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-19 09:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: “You smell divine, Professor,” Harry heard Riddle growl, his eyes fluttering open to stare intensely into Harry’s own, breath fanning across Harry’s lips.The boy’s pupils were blown—the black so intense that Harry could not discern where the chocolate of the boy’s irises began and where they ended. Harry felt like he was being swallowed up by the gaze, a hunger so thick in them that Harry could only gape.And then Harry recalled just what the potion was meant to do.Oh Merlin no.“I can practically taste you on my tongue.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [I'll Eat Your Heart Out, Sir [Traduction]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235691) by [Fiendfyre (Helweiss)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helweiss/pseuds/Fiendfyre)



> Please mind the tags. This is very dubious consent. This was inspired by a drabble. 
> 
> Please leave comments or kudos! And mind the typos. It happens.

“How is your project coming along, Mr. Riddle?” Harry asked finally, having gone around the room to discern the progress of each of his individual students. It was tiresome, and Harry knew better than anyone that this being the final day made students particularly finicky.

 

Harry had honestly expected the worst.

 

But shockingly enough, most of the potions had been done remarkably well. There was no explosions, and although there had been a close call earlier with Malfoy and Lestrange; the disaster had been miraculously avoided. One of the boys had somehow mistakenly dropped the proper ingredient to cancel out the brilliant red hue of the potion. The imminent explosion circumvented by some careless bump of a student’s hip against the table.

 

Harry had not been familiar with what the boys had originally intended to create, but it didn’t take much common sense to know that red meant bad. Especially when both boys had paled and had begun scrambling around with their things in hand like rats scurrying off with a piece of cheese in their mouths. It had not been conspicuous in any shape, way, or form, and it was a relief that the worst of the entire affair was a bruised ego, and _not_ a visit to the Hospital Wing.

 

Merlin knows just how many students had paid Madam Pomfrey a visit just on this week alone.

 

With that thought, Harry released a deep breath before he turning his gaze to the Headboy, noting the way the boy was standing straight and alert.

 

Harry knew already that if he wanted to have a better end to his evenings he should leave the more competent of his students for last. Riddle, so far, had yet to disappoint and Harry was sure that Riddle would continue to perform well until graduation.

 

There was no doubt of that.

 

Harry shifted his gaze away from the boy’s inquisitive black eyes to cast a curious glance at the brew, not the least bit surprised that Harry could not discern just what the concoction was. Riddle, like Malfoy and Lestrange, had elected to create his own potion for their project. It was quite the ambitious venture—the danger quite high should he fail to account for precise and painstaking art of potions making.

 

An art that Harry himself had been terrible at until he resolved to improve, studying the delicate science in combination with self-defensive work. Harry could admit that he was no expert, but at least now, he wasn’t a danger himself in the classroom. It had taken him too many sleepless nights and even more than a bit of hounding from Hermione, but he now could at least teach basic stuff.

 

Though this was not quite what Harry had in mind when he decided to become a professor.

 

Originally, Harry had intended to work as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. A position Harry knew he was more than a little qualified for. Hell, he was definitely the best candidate for the job if he was being honest. His best marks had been in D.A.D.A, and Harry had always been interested in dueling just as much as he was interested in Quidditch.

 

But Dippet had not been convinced of his qualifications, his bearded face and thin features not nearly as welcoming as Dumbledore’s had been. The headmaster had been quite adamant about the whole thing, refusing to allow Harry to take the position due to his “lack of experience” as the man had put. Dippet had nearly rejected him altogether for any sort of position, but blessedly enough, Dumbledore had been kind enough to step in and steer the man away from that dangerous thought.

 

Harry knew he was young, far younger than most professors were allowed to teach. But toss it, he was perfect. It was a relief that Dippet had caved under Dumbledore’s gentle prodding and allowed him to take Slughorn’s old position until the man recovered from whatever disease he had contracted back in Egypt. It was to serve as a trial run of sorts, and Harry would definitely prove his worth.

 

And although it was not quite _ideal_ , it was better than being turned away completely and so, while they had filled the D.A.D.A. position with an interim professor until another more permanent professor was selected for the role, Harry would serve as the Potion’s professor in the meantime.

 

Though it was still rather frustrating considering Harry was not even close to qualified to handle anything Potion’s related. But if Harry wanted to possibly take over the empty D.A.D.A position, he had to simply clench his jaw and make do.

 

So it made perfect sense that Harry had no bloody clue what it was that Riddle was brewing. It was a pink substance, with a slight purple sheen at the surface. It didn’t look like anything Harry had ever personally made. It didn’t look dangerous though, and that was admittedly better than whatever Lestrange and Malfoy had been trying to create.

 

It seemed placid enough. Proper, even. The complete opposite of a disaster.

 

“My potion is going along splendidly, Professor. I believe I have identified the proper agents to neutralize the volatile nature of the Dementor’s hair,” Riddle replied, and Harry heaved a relieved sigh at the simple response.

 

Good. It meant less work because quite frankly, Harry had no idea how to neutralize that finicky ingredient himself.

 

“I’m happy to hear that, Mr. Riddle. Perhaps you would like to tell the class what it is that you are working on? I believe it would be quite the learning experience for those that resolved to simply brew Amortentia rather than tackle a more ambitious venture,” Harry remarked, noting the way Riddle preened under his compliment.

 

The boy’s lips had twisted into a wide smile, a glimmer in his eyes that belied just how smug he felt. It was a slight shift in the boy’s normally rather polite expression, but it was like a ripple in normally stagnant water. A bomb that had gone off in a silent room.

 

 _Slytherins_ , Harry thought with an internal roll of his eyes, all too aware of their competitive streak, before gesturing for Riddle to speak. A warm smile on his lips, as he encouraged Riddle to continue.

 

Class was almost over and Harry needed this little discussion over and done with.

 

“Well, since the assignment originally was to create Amortentia, I deemed it appropriate to create something along that line,” Riddle began, and Harry listened, his eyes casually roaming over the boy’s immaculate attire.

 

It was strange just how put together the boy was. No one would think he was only seventeen with the way he walked and spoke. His manners were impeccable and his tone always slow and even. His voice, admittedly, had been the first thing Harry had noticed upon taking the Potion’s post, aside from his shockingly handsome features.

 

It should have honestly been a crime to be that pretty and perfect, in Harry’s humble opinion. But Riddle was the ideal student to have. The exact opposite of what Harry had been back when he was a student and most students in his year, let alone his own house.

 

Though if Harry listened to the hogwash Dumbledore fed him, he’d think the boy was the antichrist. Or a future dark lord, using the words of the old coot. The boy was _nothing_ like his fellow Slytherins;Riddle kept mostly to himself. He was rather popular with almost all students from each of the houses, but that was, by no means, reason to be suspicious of the boy. Everyone liked him, the girls and the boys even admired him.

 

Dumbledore’s behavior was just weird.

 

Dumbledore from the first day Harry had taken over Slughorn’s position had made it a habit to warn Harry about the boy. To watch the boy carefully, and if Harry saw _anything_ that could be construed as odd, to contact him immediately.

 

It was complete bollocks and honestly, prejudicial.

 

Harry simply did not understand the sentiment. The young man behaved just fine, if not better than most of his peers, and he was incredibly intelligent. He knew more about potions than Harry himself did, and although that was frustrating considering Riddle wasn’t a potion’s master, it was definitely impressive to listen to the boy chime in with answers to the questions Harry threw out for the class.

 

Riddle was going to be someone someday. Of that, Harry was more than certain.

 

“You see, rather than create a simple love potion to induce such a powerful feeling of affection in the drinker, why not instead create something that would make you irresistible to all those around you? Instead of the drinker becoming the one drunk off the potion, why not have those around the person become attracted to the drinker, instead?” Riddle inquired, and Harry was awestruck.

 

It was an interesting thought, and a dangerous one as well.

 

It would definitely lead to loads of trouble, and it was fortunate, indeed, that it was Riddle rather than some other cheeky seventh year making the brew. If it were anyone else taking a stab at the potion, Harry might have immediately put a stop to it. Knowing for a fact that it could be used for nefarious purposes.

 

But this was Riddle: Headboy and one of the brightest students in his class. The boy may have been a Slytherin, but he was possibly the nicest of the bunch.

 

The nicest Harry had ever met, if he were being honest. And he had more than enough dealings with Slytherins to know their ilk.

 

“Well then, it seems like we’ve run out of time. Thank you for humoring me, Mr. Riddle. Be sure to put your potions in a stasis charm before you leave!” Harry called out, the shuffling of papers and bags nearly drowning out his voice as students began to rush out of class and to dinner.

 

It was the last class of the day, and Harry understood the sentiments of his students well. They didn’t want to be there any more than Harry did.

 

“Professor Potter, do you have a moment?” Riddle voice interrupted Harry’s mental musings, his green eyes shooting out to stare at Riddle’s polite face.

 

Sometimes Harry wondered if it was a mask more often than not, if Riddle was truly as nice as he was because Harry could not recall ever seeing anything but a soft, pleasant expression on the boy’s face. Harry had managed to see minor flashes of emotion in the boy’s expression when he was focused on something or when Harry complimented his skills, but it was never anything...intense.

 

It made Harry wonder if the boy was capable of strong emotion at all.

 

“Of course, how can I help you?” Harry noticed how Riddle stood up straighter, his eyes flashing with something before the emotion disappeared as quickly as it came.

 

 _Odd_ , Harry thought as he tried to make sense of what just happened before discarding the thought when Riddle smiled sheepishly at him.

 

“You see, I have managed to neutralize the Dementor’s hair, but there is something I am still rather unsure about. I thought to add white poppies to...coax a more visceral response, considering both its healing and addictive qualities, but I was unsure,” Riddle hedged, his hesitation so out of character that Harry was struck dumb by it.

 

The boy was asking _him_ for potion’s advice? Harry could hardly believe it.

 

Harry stepped around the desk, his robes catching on one of the vials sitting precariously by the cauldron, to take note of the different ingredients on the table. Harry heard the faint sound of glass shattering, the sound closer than Harry was comfortable with, before the pink liquid inside the cauldron exploded into a myriad of different colors.

 

Red. Blue. Purple. Lilac.

 

It was the only warning Harry had before the liquid burst forth from the open maw of the cauldron, the droplets flying out.

 

Harry had a split second to push Riddle out of the way before the liquid gushed over him, the hot brew like acid as it drenched his hair and face in the viscous substance; his nose clogged by the bitter liquid and his mouth tasting annoyingly like nickels and rosemary.

 

Harry hastily yanked his wand from his pocket, clenching his jaw as the potion singed his skin, and immediately casted the first spell he could think of to suppress the explosion. He managed to contain the explosion to the desk, the liquid splattering the potion’s book Riddle had left lying on the table and various beakers and flasks, but the damage had already been done.

 

His upper body was drenched.

 

With a curse, Harry vanished the cauldron and all the ingredients lying on Riddle’s desk, a twinge of sympathy on his brow when the book was vanished along with it. The tome had been completed ruined, and it was possibly all that Riddle could afford.

 

Harry knew of Riddle’s orphan status. The fund was out there to help such students, but it barely covered anything at all. And of course, money simply did not come easy, especially when you’re a student and not permitted to really work.

 

Riddle couldn’t afford it, but Harry certainly could. He’d purchase the Potion’s book in compensation for his fuck up. It was the least he could do for both ruining the potion and the only book Riddle could afford.

 

_Merlin, I’m worse than the Longbottoms._

 

Harry groaned internally, before waving his wand again to _scougify_ the lilac puddle from all over the desk and floor, cleaning his robes last as he did so. His relief instant when his robes no longer felt like they were fused together with his bare skin.

 

Harry heaved a heavy sigh.

 

His skin stung, but it was not the worst injury had ever sustained in his life. Nothing compared to the scrapes he had often gotten in as a teen.

 

_Well, this is wasn’t so bad—_

 

Harry froze, panic exploding in his gut so swiftly his vision blurred.

 

_Potion. You got drenched with a potion, you ninny!_

 

Harry’s mind reeled,  the acrid taste of nickels and rosemary still a foreign weight in the back of his throat.

 

 _I hope this doesn’t kill me_ , Harry thought. His heart beating rapidly as he considered all the horrible things that could happen to him. Dread a disturbing weight in his gut.

 

Harry waited for the tell-tale sign of the potion taking effect. For the magic to turn him into some bizarre creature. For his limbs to collapse or his mind to muddle.

 

But there was nothing. Just the rank taste and the unfamiliar burn of liquid traveling up his nose and throat.

 

Everything seemed fine, and after waiting several more moments, Harry slumped with relief apparent on his features, and shot a glance to the boy sprawled on the floor a meter or so away.

 

Concern quickly overshadowed all relief on Harry’s face, recalling just then that he’d practically hurled the boy out of the potion’s exploding range.

 

Harry was rooted in place, unsure of what to do in that second.

 

Several seconds passed before Riddle jerked, his hand pressing onto the ground to try to propel himself up, but failing to do so. It was that gesture that spurred Harry into motion, clearly the boy was _not_ alright and was in definite need of assistance. Harry shuffled over to help the boy up, his arm jutting out awkwardly right beneath the boy’s nose to coax the boy to reach for it. Riddle’s eyes were squinted, more closed than open, and Harry felt guilt flare up in his gut once more at the sight the boy made.

 

Riddle’s hair was in total disarray, more a bird’s nest than the impeccable coif he typically styled it to, his robes dusty from having landed on the ground, and if Harry squinted, he could even see a bright red bruise on the boy’s cheek from when he landed on his side on the ground.

 

Harry’s guilt grew heavier, the feeling twisting his insides funnily. It had been his fault in the first place that the potion had exploded. If he hadn’t been so careless Riddle might not have gotten hurt in the first place. And now, Harry likely had to take Riddle to the Hospital Wing in the event that he concussed his student.

 

_Good job, Harry._

 

It was fortunate that a bruise and a hard fall was the worst of it though. It didn’t look _quite_ as serious as it could have been had Riddle gotten the full brunt of the spell, and that was at least something.Though convincing himself of that was a difficult feat. It was still rather shite that he’d landed Riddle in the Hospital Wing due to _his_ carelessness.

 

“Are you alright, Mr. Riddle? I am so sorry. I ruined your potion. We have to get you to the nurse,” Harry apologized profusely, noting how Riddle’s fingers finally reached out to thread in his hand, Riddle’s grip surprisingly tight and unyielding considering how disheveled he looked while sprawled on the ground.

 

The boy had yet to open his eyes, and Harry felt his concern elevate into panic when Riddle failed to say anything to him.

 

Harry was prepared to start casting all the spells he knew to get the boy up when Harry saw the boy’s nostrils flare, the boy’s jaw clenching and unclenching. Almost like Riddle was trying to rein himself in, or control something.

 

It was the only warning Harry had before Riddle, rather than let Harry to lift him up, yanked so harshly on his arm that Harry’s balance slipped.

 

Harry yelped, his free hand jutting out to splay over the hard ground beside Riddle’s head to prevent his face from smashing into Riddle’s own. It fortunate that Harry had been Seeker back in his days; he would have smashed their foreheads together if he hadn’t reacted in time.

 

_Shite, what was that?_

 

With a furrow of his brow, Harry composed himself before focusing his vision on the boy’s face beneath him, Harry’s face going white as a sheet when he realized that his mouth was uncomfortably close to Riddle’s.

 

“You smell _divine_ , Professor,” Harry heard Riddle growl, his eyes fluttering open to stare intensely into Harry’s own, breath fanning across Harry’s lips.

 

The boy’s pupils were blown—the black so intense that Harry could not discern where the chocolate of the boy’s irises began and where they ended. Harry felt like he was being swallowed up by the gaze, a hunger so thick in them that Harry could only gape.

 

And then Harry recalled just _what_ the potion was meant to do.

 

_Oh Merlin no._

 

“I can practically _taste_ you on my tongue.”

 

Harry scrambled to get up, horror dawning on his features when Riddle twisted; reversing their positions on the dirty floor.

 

Harry grunted, his back landing hard on the floor with Riddle’s taller frame straddling his own on the ground. Harry’s glasses, miraculously, still propped against his nose.

 

It took Harry several seconds for his world to realign after being spun so suddenly, and when it did, Harry regretted the instant he came to his senses.

 

Riddle looked completely unhinged, his eyes wild and hungry as they took Harry in. He was disheveled, his hair twisted and his cheeks flushed, as if he were burning with a fever.

 

“Mr. Riddle you are not yourself…” Harry tried to reason, but stopped when Riddle’s hands pressed onto his shoulders, and shoved him more harshly onto the ground, the boy’s body flush against Harry’s own.

 

_This is not right._

 

Harry was so close that he could count the lashes in the boy’s eyes, could taste the treacle tart Riddle had eaten for lunch and the faint smell of cologne the boy had likely put on that morning. This was closer than Harry had ever wanted to be to Riddle.

 

Harry was horrified.

 

“I disagree, _Professor_. I have never been more myself than at this moment,” Riddle murmured before leaning in closer, his short hair tickling Harry’s forehead as the boy practically devoured him with his gaze.

 

Harry felt a nervous sweat begin to bead along his back.

 

“Riddle! I don’t want to hurt you,” Harry threatened, his fingers reaching for the wand tucked away in his robes.

 

He was staring intensely into Riddle’s eyes, waiting for some sort of lucidity to take hold of his expression. But there was no recognition that Riddle had even heard what Harry said. It was as if Harry was speaking to an animal rather than a person.

 

_Just what bloody potion was this?_

 

“...Hurt me?” Riddle intoned, breathing the words out and making Harry squirm when Riddle’s leaned in until his lips were touching his cheek. “With what wand?”

 

Harry’s eyes narrowed, confusion twisting his lips into a frown before he felt the familiar weight of his wand in his pocket vanish.

 

_What the fuck._

 

Harry reeled.

 

“H-how did you—?”

 

“Take your wand?” Riddle interrupted smoothly, something predatory flashing in his gaze, before his lips trailed up his cheek and to his ear.

 

“You let your guard down, Professor. You underestimated your opponent…” Riddle crooned before his lips smoothed over his ear, his teeth catching on the lobe to bite lightly at the skin.

 

Harry shivered, unsure and disturbed.

 

_What was that even?_

 

Harry planted his hands on Riddle’s shoulders, ready to shove the boy off him because _this was not bloody happening_ , but Riddle, as if sensing Harry’s intentions, twisted his legs to trap Harry’s shaking legs between his own, and grabbed onto Harry’s wrists, squeezing the flesh so tightly that Harry swore he’d have bruises. Harry tried to jerk his feet out from the hold, writhing and squirming.

 

But when Riddle bloody _moaned_ into his ear, Harry immediately ceased.

Harry doubted he could have been anymore embarrassed.

 

“Riddle, I am warning you. I know you’re not yourself but don’t make me—”

 

“ _Incarcerus.”_

 

Harry gaped, both impressed and horrified by Riddle’s impressive show of wandless magic as his hands were bound and forced away from Riddle’s shoulders. His wrists tied and pinned above his head through the will of the boy’s magic alone.

 

Harry felt the ropes snake around his ankles, cutting the circulation of his legs when Riddle finally released his grip and the ropes parted his legs, and bound his ankles to his thighs, his knees jutting out awkwardly in the strange pose.

 

“R-riddle! This is inappropriate. I’m your _professor!”_ Harry squeaked, a bright blush flaring on his cheeks when Riddle laughed into his ear, the sound husky and warm.

 

Harry did not know what he was going to do. He was bound up like some virgin sacrifice about to be ravished by some rogue in a bodice ripper novel. He needed to do something, to get Riddle back to his senses.

 

Harry could lose his job for this. Hell, anyone could walk in at that moment and find them in this precarious position.

 

This wouldn’t look good at all for Harry, but Riddle was not _bloody listening to reason._ Merlin, why did Dippet have to force him to be a Potion’s professor. How the fuck was he supposed to undo whatever it was that Riddle brewed?

 

“And you think that will discourage me, Harry?” Harry felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

 

Riddle had just called him by his first name.

 

Riddle had just _pinned_ him to the dirty floor in possibly one of the most isolated places in all of Hogwarts.

 

Riddle and he were _alone_ when everyone else was sitting for dinner.

 

No one would come down to the dungeons in search of them. They were alone for lord knows how long, and Harry renewed his squirming despite the risk of Riddle moaning into his ear. All concern at the consequences of being found discarded because, fuck it, losing his job was better than whatever the boy planned to do.

 

Harry couldn’t just bloody lie there!

 

“You’re young, perhaps seven years my senior at most. You’re intelligent, despite your abysmal skills with potions making…” Harry sputtered, incensed at that comment.

 

Well, at least Harry knew exactly what Riddle thought of him then. The politeness had definitely been a mask.

 

“And your _smell_ , it is bathed on your skin…” Harry gasped when Riddle bit more harshly into his ear, and then pressed his tongue across the hurt skin to soothe the sting.

 

“I want to devour you, Professor…”

 

Harry groaned when one of Riddle’s hands cupped Harry’s cock through his robes, his fingers easily teasing along the ridge of his hardening prick.

 

_Think of dead cats. Think of anything else but the fact that Riddle is groping you._

Harry thought desperately, trying to drown out the feeling of Riddle’s hands on his cock with horrid images at the back of his mind.

 

Harry cried out when Riddle squeezed his cock hard, the fabric of his robes doing little to protect the sensitive flesh as Riddle began to twist and knead. Harry could feel each individual stroke as if Riddle’s hand was actually fisting him skin to skin, and Harry wondered faintly if Riddle had done something because this wasn’t normal. This sensitivity was _not_ normal.

 

“Do you like that, Professor? That someone you thought your inferior is debasing you in this way?” Riddle purred, clamping his teeth hard on Harry’s neck and forcing another pained cry from Harry’s lips.

 

_Merlin, I’m acting like a sodding virgin…_

 

“Piss off,” Harry retorted, toes curling pleasantly when Riddle increased his pace, his grip almost unbearably tight.

 

Then there was a whisper, a line of words so soft that Harry couldn't quite catch what they were.

 

And then all of his clothes melted away, vanishing as quickly as the cauldron brewing Riddle’s potion had.

 

Harry froze, horror and mortification so thick on his face that when Riddle finally pulled his face away from his neck, he didn’t think before spitting at him.

 

“Stop this _now,”_ Harry demanded, all thought of the fact that Riddle was not himself overshadowed by his anger and panic.

 

This is bloody ridiculous. Harry wasn’t some damsel in distress. He was a bloody _wizard._ A professor.

 

Riddle was only a student. He shouldn’t be capable of this.

 

_What kind of bloody potion was this?_

 

“Was that an order?” Riddle asked innocently, his hunger still apparent on his gaze. But there was something else there, an emotion that Harry had never seen before on the boy’s face. Not in the entire year since taking on the Potion’s position.

 

“I do not take _orders_ from anyone, Harry. I am the one in control, and you…” Riddle hissed, anger melding with the hunger still thick on his features,  as his grip on Harry’s cock tightened to the point of pain-—the pleasant sensation chased away by agony.

 

“...should know your place,” Harry’s brain was reeling, confusion and surprise shooting through him because this was definitely _not_ perfectly behaved, innocent Riddle.

 

This was someone else. Someone that Harry did not know and did not wish to know.

 

_What was in that bloody potion?_

 

“I’m not your slave, I am your professor. I am the authority—”

 

Harry whined suddenly when Riddle’s hand began to stroke him once more, the other hand sliding across the skin of his chest before latching onto his right nipple to play with the nub.

 

A shot of adrenaline crawled up his spine, the pleasure such a shock that Harry could not even think to finish his sentence.

 

“Oh, _Harry_ , we all know that is not true. Look at how you melt from just a little teasing along your skin.”

 

Harry wanted to deny it, but just as his mouth parted to speak the words, Riddle suddenly twisted Harry’s nipple and the words died at his throat.

 

“I _know_ you want me. Your glances were never discrete…” Harry felt humiliation burn over his cheeks, the warmth traveling down his chest.

 

_He couldn’t have…_

 

“Admit it, _Professor_ , you found me desirable. Enough that your eyes could look at no other but me when I walked into a room…”

 

“No, that’s not true!” Harry denied through the pleasured haze of Riddle’s fingers over his skin, his eyes slipping shut when Riddle rolled his nipple between his fingers in tandem with each twist of his fingers over his cock; the teen’s thumb teasing his slit each time Riddle slid his hand from Harry’s bollocks to the head of his cock.

 

“ _Liar,”_  Riddle growled and Harry panted, feeling something begin to build low at his belly. The threat of orgasm more real than ever as Harry tried to fight off the ecstasy dancing along his spine.

 

“Secretly, you’re grateful that the potion erupted…” Riddle was staring into Harry’s eyes, and Harry could not find it in himself to look away. He knew he was blushing, and he knew that it revealed just how affected he was.

 

But Riddle’s black eyes ate him alive—they held his gaze captive, more tightly bound than even the restraints keeping Harry’s body pinned down.

 

“Maybe you even did it on _purpose_...how devious of you.” Harry moaned when Riddle released his nipple and began to flick the other, the nub surprisingly more sensitive than the one Riddle had been abusing earlier. With Harry’s impending orgasm weighing heavily in his gut, Harry bit his own tongue to stop himself from tipping over the edge.

 

The fall was too steep.

 

But it was hard to resist when Riddle’s hands worked him with patient and even strokes, coaxing short gasps and pleased moans despite how tightly his teeth clamped on his tongue. And then Riddle dug his nail into his cockhole, and Harry could not stop himself from jerking in response, his limbs straining and his spine arching the closer and closer he came to orgasm; his body disobeying him.

 

_Please no. Don’t._

 

Harry did not want to orgasm. He didn’t want to give the boy the satisfaction. To fall would be to admit defeat. It would be as good as a confession. A confirmation of all those lewd things the boy claimed he was.

 

Even if, admittedly, Harry did think Riddle was too pretty for his own good. Even if his eyes did stray in Riddle’s direction one too many times throughout the year.

 

“I know you’re close, Professor. I can feel each ripple of muscle beneath my hands, can see each twinge and jerk of your limbs every time I stroke you _just like this_ ,” Riddle twisted his cock, his grip firm and Harry could not stifle a high-pitched cry as he was forced over the edge. His orgasm blinding as his limbs shook and twitched from the power of it.

 

Harry wanted to curse himself—to cry and yell at the same time.

 

Harry splattered all over the Riddle’s hand, his half-lidded gaze shooting down to watch his cock coat the boy’s hand with his fluids. The sound of his cock being fisted loud in the room as Riddle did not desist in his motions. Harry whined, oversensitive from his orgasm, but still Riddle did not stop.

 

The pleasure quickly shifted to pain. An overwhelming sensitivity doing little for his sanity as Harry squirmed and writhed to escape from the constant press of Riddle’s thumb against his slit, and the tight confinement of his hand clutching around his shaft.

 

All while his fingers squeezed and teased his nipples.

 

“Tom please sto— _ah!_ ” Harry cried out, watching how Riddle’s lips twisted into a satisfied smile as he did the exact opposite.

 

“No.”

 

And the Riddle smashed his lips against Harry’s, his teeth catching on Harry’s lip before biting hard on the skin hard enough to draw blood. Harry clamped his mouth shut, but Riddle, as if sensing his intentions, squeezed his cock so hard that Harry’s mouth parted to release a loud shout.

 

The pain was incredible.

 

Riddle seized the opening to slip inside, his mouth wild as they sucked on his lips like a parched man. Harry could hardly keep up, Riddle’s tongue teasing along his gums and his bottom lip expertly to elicit the right responses from Harry’s mouth. Harry felt Riddle’s tongue run across his bottom lip lightly, before taking the appendage into his mouth, sucking on it hard hard before sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh.

 

Harry hissed, and Riddle moaned, releasing his lip to slip back into Harry’s parted mouth, his tongue running over the roof of his mouth.

 

Harry felt lost and afloat, his toes and fingers tensing and flexing when Riddle sucked Harry’s tongue into his mouth after teasing along with mouth, his teeth clamping around it lightly to elicit a pained cry straight from Harry’s throat.

 

 _I’m losing my bloody mind_.

 

And then Riddle released his lips to trail open-mouthed kisses down his neck, his teeth scratching and his tongue licking a burning path down his throat. Harry twitched and groaned when Riddle hit the sensitive patch just between his shoulder and his neck, and felt the familiar pressure of orgasm ghosting along his gut.

 

All while Riddle continued squeeze and tease at his prick.

 

Harry did not want to know what his neck was going to look like at the end of this. Of what he must look like now, as Riddle ravaged him like some horny teenager. But the first thing he was going to do when he got out of this mess was the glamour that mess away.

 

“ _Salazar, your taste_ …” Riddle moaned into his throat. He was nipped across Harry’s collarbone, his teeth and tongue making him jerk and twist within his restrains. Gasping, euphoria twined around Harry’s spine when Riddle suddenly latched onto his nipples.

 

Harry saw white, his mouth parting without his permission.

 

A throaty moan was ripped from his throat when his second climax consumed him, his limbs trembling profusely as he tried to fight off the bliss dancing along his skin.

 

Several seconds passed before Riddle released his nipple, the cold air fanning against Harry’s wet nipple making Harry breathe in sharply.

 

“Your nipples are quite sensitive, Professor. My hand is completely drenched in your juices.”

 

Harry wanted to die. He truly did in that second. Anything was preferable to having his many sins shoved right under his nose.

 

Harry never thought that Riddle would be such a pervert.

 

_Merlin, just what was in that potion._

 

“Riddle no more— _oh!”_

 

And then Riddle’s mouth took his nipple into his mouth once more, his teeth catching onto the delicate nub before taking it between his teeth.The hand on his cock, finally, mercifully, stopping in his ministrations and pulling away.

 

Harry could have cried with relief.

 

Harry froze, his relief immediately lost,  when he felt the hand slip beneath his balls, a long, wet finger slipping down his arse, between his crack, to touch along his arsehole.

 

 _He wouldn’t_.

 

Harry shook, and squirmed. He tried to move away as far as possible from the finger probing against his hole. But there was nowhere for him to go.

 

“Don’t,” Harry begged, throwing his pride and dignity to the wind because for all his experience with women. He had never been with a man before. He had kissed and even played with a man’s prick in the past, but there was certainly something left to be said about playing pitcher. “Please don’t,” Harry repeated.

 

Harry had never fucked or been fucked by a man, and he certainly did not want his first time with Riddle.

 

 _Liar_ , a voice whisper teased across the back of his mind. But Harry shoved that traitorous thought as far as he could, focusing instead on the issue at hand.

 

Like the fact that Riddle had stopped sucking at his nipple and was staring quite intensely at him in the eyes, for one.

 

Riddle looked pensive, his lips neutral despite the sweat beading at his forehead and the redness on his cheeks.

 

There was hunger still swirling in his gaze, but there was something else. An almost possessive gleam in them that set Harry totally on edge.

 

“I will not hurt you…” Riddle promised, the seriousness with which he said it doing little to calm Harry’s nerves because that certainly did not sound like Riddle was going to stop.

 

Harry felt Riddle press more firmly against his hole, and Harry tensed, dread twisting his stomach into knots.

 

“...much.”

 

And then Riddle grinned, all teeth, before shoving his finger inside and twisting.

 

Harry yelped, unable to stop himself from clenching onto that finger as tightly as he could when Riddle laughed at him, eyes dancing merrily as he began to move his finger with little regard for Harry’s pained sounds.

 

It burned. It was perhaps the most uncomfortable thing Harry had ever experienced, but then Riddle pulled out, the relief short lived, before Riddle slid back in, over and over again.

 

His finger was not gentle by any means, and Harry found himself closing his eyes in humiliation when Riddle winked at him, the mischief dancing along with the hunger doing little for his self-control.

 

Perhaps, if Harry thought of something else, it might end more quickly? But how was Harry supposed to bloody ignore that when Riddle was—

 

Harry’s eyes widened, his mouth parting to release a choked sound when Riddle’s finger suddenly brushed against something, like a finger poking into an electrical socket.

 

_What was that?_

 

Harry cried out again when Riddle pressed against it once more, his eyes staring unseeingly at Riddle’s face as the boy continued to abuse his prostate.

 

Harry had read enough to know that this had to be it. But nothing could have ever prepared him for the thrill that crawled up his spine, or the mind-numbing pleasure that ate away at any sense of rationality in his brain.

 

It was suffocating and delicious. It was singlehandedly better than anything Harry had ever felt before.

 

Harry didn’t even notice when Riddle shoved a second finger inside, the burn nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure that warmed his insides each time Riddle just twisted his fingers _just so_.

 

Harry was bucking into the boy’s hand before he knew it, his mind chasing the delicious sensations Riddle elicited in him.

 

In that moment, Harry was not a professor nor was he an older man possibly sleeping with a compromised student.

 

Here and now, he was Harry Potter. And Riddle was fucking him too good on his fingers for him to think to resist.

 

“More,” Harry groaned, his eyes fluttering shut when Riddle shoved a third finger inside in response to his request, a moan leaving his lips.

 

_Morgana, why does it feel so good?_

 

“I thought you didn’t want this, _Professor?”_ Riddle teased, his fingers curling and scissoring inside him as he spoke. Harry did not have the presence of mind to even think of responding, instead he fluttered his eyes open to shoot the boy an angry look.

 

“I thought that I wasn’t _myself_. Perhaps I should stop now?” Riddle inquired and Harry almost gaped, ire and desperation twisting his lips into a frown. No, Riddle couldn’t possible stop now.

 

“N-no, don’t you dare.”

 

Harry gasped when Riddle pulled his fingers out from his arse, the emptiness both disappointing and relieving.

 

Harry’s mind felt less cloudy, his mental faculties returning to him like a punch in the stomach. Embarrassment and shame were among the first to return, and Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl into the ground and die.

 

They were the most powerful emotions, easily overshadowing the indignation he felt burning across his skin. But Harry clutched tightly onto his anger despite it _—_ he wasn’t ready to deal with his...other more dangerous feelings.

 

“You son of a bitch,” Harry snarled, and Riddle froze above him, his expression suddenly stormy and the hunger dimming slightly.

 

“I was planning to be more gentle, but it seems, that my generosity is lost on you,” Riddle hissed, and Harry gasped when Riddle grabbed onto his knee and pushed them back, nearly parallel to his shoulders, practically bending Harry into a pretzel.

 

Harry groaned from the discomfort, his cheeks flushing a brighter red when Riddle’s gaze was level with Harry’s hard cock and his arshole.

 

“Stop looking at me,” Harry said instead, and Riddle stopped for a moment; his anger momentarily dispelled.

 

_Do I really sound so pathetic that it is enough to snap even an enraged hormonal teenager from their anger?_

 

Harry doubted he would ever live this day down. Being called out for finding the boy handsome, and molested, all on top of sounding like some kicked puppy, was definitely not what Harry planned for his Friday evening.

 

“...Perhaps there is another way to punish you.”

 

Harry did not like the sound of that at all. Especially not when Riddle shot him a mischievous look before leaning forward, his hands still pressed tightly on his knees.

 

Harry felt incredibly exposed. More than he had ever been in his entire life. And he had experienced some embarrassing things in his lifetime.

 

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell, Professor,” Riddle breathed against his bollocks. And then the boy was licking from his balls and up to his head, the touch making Harry twitch and writhe in pleasure as he tortured Harry within an inch of his life with his tongue and teeth, until finally engulfed him.

 

Harry hissed, the feeling of Riddle’s hot and wet mouth on his cock making his toes curl as Riddle swallowed him, his throat tight and delicious as it enclosed around him.

 

Riddle took Harry completely into his mouth, stopping to flicker his gaze up to Harry’s half-lidded gaze, his eyes glimmering like precious onyx gems. Harry swore under his breath when Riddle moaned with his cock deep in the boy’s throat, the vibrations so intense that Harry could feel them dance along his spine.

 

_Merlin._

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry cursed when Riddle began to bob his head, sucking on his cock as if he had far too much experience doing so, ripping another cry from Harry’s mouth.

 

Harry could feel his tongue flicking over his head, Riddle knowing just where to tease as he forced himself to take Harry’s entire cock into his throat, each and every time. The boy did not gag, and Harry wondered if he should be concerned or impressed by this fact.

 

Harry felt that damning pressure begin to build over his navel, his body twisting and jerking each time Riddle’s teeth grazed up his sensitive shaft before nipping at his head.

 

It was painful, but Harry was more frightened of the fact that he did not hate it. The pain, instead of dampening his desire, only seemed to push him closer to the edge.

 

That was just unacceptable.

 

Harry didn’t think he could handle a third orgasm after the last two. It was too many in one afternoon. Too intense. Especially not from being _bitten_.

 

“R-riddle,” Harry tried to say, but when the student in question tensed his jaw and bit in retaliation onto his head, Harry lost all recollection of what he was going to say. His eyes fluttering shut to erase the pretty image of Riddle between his thighs.

 

The pain and the pleasure melded easily, the two balanced so seamlessly that Harry released a protesting whine when Riddle released Harry’s cock with a wet pop to lick and suck at his bollocks instead; the touch driving him near insanity.

 

Harry felt like he was ready to burst, and Riddle was only toying with his balls.

 

_Morgana, help me._

 

“Enough,” Harry gasped, twitching in the boy’s hold when Riddle slid lower still, his mouth too close to Harry’s arsehole.

 

 _He wouldn’t_ , Harry gaped and squirmed, his movements fruitless as the boy flickered his gaze to his own before bloody winking at him.

 

And then Harry felt moist heat prod his rim, a tongue teasing along the sensitive hole.

 

“ _Sweet Godric.”_

 

Riddle buried his tongue inside, and Harry saw white. A third orgasm splattering Riddle’s face as Harry felt his muscles sag, his chest heaving as he tried to regulate his shallow breathing. It was just the lightest press, the faintest whisper, but Harry did not stand a chance. He didn’t care that he had come from that.

 

No one had ever done that before.

 

“I’d have preferred my name, but I suppose we can fix that rather shortly,” Harry felt Riddle murmur into his arsehole, and Harry felt humiliation burn more brightly over his insides even through the post-orgasmic haze, his limbs shaking as he tried to blink away the tears of embarrassment gathering in his eyes.

 

“Not bloody likely,” Harry shot back, and gasped when Riddle flickered his gaze back to his own, wide green eyes. Riddle’s black hair was wet with Harry’s white cum, the fluid dribbling down Riddle’s cheek.

 

He looked a complete mess, and Harry was awestruck by the sight.

 

Somehow, even in such a state, the boy still looked beautiful.

 

Riddle’s cheeks were red, and his mouth was puffy, but there was power in his gaze. Anyone that looked at him, even in with this rather lewd appearance, would never doubt just who was the one in charge.

 

“ _Delicious.”_

 

Harry wanted to faint.

 

Riddle straightened, his waist now level with Harry’s arse, one of his hands releasing one of Harry’s knees. Riddle then waved his arm to vanish his robes and Harry felt his anxiety shoot through the roof. Harry knew what was coming next. Riddle was practically glowing with excitement.

 

Harry could only stare helplessly at the boy’s belt buckle, watching how Riddle loosened his belt, and slipped his fingers lower to open the fly of his pants. The sound of his zipper so loud in the room that Harry couldn’t help but flinch, his stomach twisting into knots.

 

“R-riddle, you don’t have to do this,” Harry tried, but the boy shot him an incredulous look. Disapproval and exasperation twisting his lips into a grimace. Harry swallowed when Riddle slipped his hand inside to pull out his large, thick cock from his pants despite the frustration clear on the boy’s face.

 

_No bloody way is that going anywhere near me._

 

Harry tried to fight off the boy’s hold on his knee, but Riddle held him firmly, his grip unyielding, as he pressed his cock up against Harry’s quivering hole.

 

“At least use lube…”Harry suggested instead, and that seemed to stop the boy in his tracks. A smirk twisting his expression before he waved his hand;  his cock now coated with a clear, viscous fluid.

 

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do this. I was simply going to go in without any preparation but your wanton sounds stayed my hand…” Riddle said, pressing his blunt head to Harry’s arsehole and smearing cold lubricant against his cheeks.

 

“I was resolved to break you apart beneath my hands. To rip your precious control apart, and my, a simple brush of a finger against your prostate certainly did just that…” Harry colored at that, his face so hot that he could probably fry an egg on his cheeks, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say.

 

_Fuck, but what could I even say?_

 

“And then I just had to taste you. You taste quite sweet Harry, almost like that last remnant of innocence I plan to steal from you.”

 

How Riddle knew he had never lain with a man, was a mystery Harry did not want to pursue.

 

“Shut up,” Harry finally said, but Riddle simply quirked a brow at him, mischief swimming within his gaze, before forcing the tip of his large cock in, his girth stretching Harry painfully.

 

“ _R-riddle, oh Merlin_ ,” Harry cried out, his fingernails digging into his own palms as Riddle continued to push in with little regard for Harry’s discomfort. His prick split Harry in two, and stabbed along his spine.

 

Harry could only watch as Riddle’s bit his lower lip in absolute bliss, the black of his eyes so intense that Harry felt like he was going to be swallowed whole.

 

Riddle pushed further in, and Harry snapped his gaze away, the fullness and the pain making his vision swim.

 

“You’re too big. Y-you’re breaking me in two,” Harry jerked his head to and fro, his eyes clamping shut as he tried to relax his muscles, crying out when he felt another stab of pain cut through his psyche when Riddle finally buried his entire cock inside.

 

“Good, you’ll come to like the pain,” Riddle replied instead, and Harry nearly lost it when Riddle pulled out just as he had settled into Harry’s arse, only to push back in, ramming into his prostate with a precise shift of his hips.

 

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, momentarily lost to the euphoria as Riddle set a brutal pace, slamming into his prostate with no mercy.

 

Harry felt like his brain was going to melt. Like he was checking in his brain at a hotel, only to leave it at the dingy room before going out.

 

 _This feels so good_ , that traitorous voice whispered into his mind, and Harry agreed, seizing on the thought as Riddle abuse his prostate.

 

Harry latched onto the pleasure, sinking further into the abyss. Riddle’s fingers trailed up his thigh to wrap around Harry’s leaking cock, and Harry moaned deeply.

 

Ecstasy. Euphoria. Pleasure. Pain.

 

Harry could hardly distinguish any of it. He was lost.

 

“Does it feel good, Harry?” Riddle murmured, his voice strained as he fucked into Harry, his hips pushing in at a steady and unforgiving pace.

 

Harry wondered why he had even fought this in the first place.

 

“ _Yesss,_ ” Harry hissed, his eyes fluttering shut when Riddle’s fingers danced along his cock but did not more than palm him, his fingers teasing lightly along the skin with his nails.

 

Harry wanted Riddle to sink his nails inside, to fist him and jerk his prick until he was drowning in the comforting buzz of completion.

 

Desperately, Harry shifted his hips to take the boy more readily inside. To feel the delicious burn of his prick twisting his insides each and every time they hit the sensitive bundle inside. He moaned and whined, his spine arching as much as his restraints allowed.

 

“Do you want more, Harry? Do you want your _Lord_ to consume you? To deliver to you this intoxicating bliss each and every single time I allow?” Harry nodded his head desperately, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

 

But then Riddle slowed, and Harry whined, the sound pitiful.

 

“ _Say it._ ” Riddle ordered, his voice husky as he moved so slowly inside him that Harry almost weeped.

 

Harry knew he shouldn’t. But why fight it when this felt so right? When each time Riddle’s cock brushed against his prostate his nerves caught fire?

 

“Please  touch me more, fuck me more, _my Lord_ . I want you to— _ah_.”

 

Riddle snapped his hips forward and he renewed his brutal pace, his fist on Harry’s cock now twisting and jerking the soft flesh until Harry was near tears.

 

Harry opened his mouth, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to speak, his tongue lolled from his parted lips and his eyes rolled to the back of his head when Riddle did not stop abusing his prostate, when his fingers were squeezing his prick so tightly that it hurt.  

 

_Yesss._

 

Drowning, that was what Harry felt like. He was choking and nearing his fourth orgasm and he didn’t feel an ounce of shame when it finally struck.

 

Riddle’s moan pleased moan fueling his own as Riddle jerked desperately inside him, spilling his seed inside before pulling out to splatter the rest across Harry’s stomach. Harry watched as his own juices splattered over his own stomach, Riddle’s had soaked entirely with his own seed.

 

It was several moments before their labored breathing regulated. The haze of post orgasmic bliss dissolving into humiliation, horror, and realization when Harry finally recovered from that rather intense orgasm.

Harry watched the boy suddenly stand, and Harry lost it.

 

_I just got fucked by Tom Marvolo Riddle, and liked it…._

 

_I just fucked a student completely lost to the thrall of a potion explosion..._

 

Harry didn’t know what to do. He thought immediately of obliviating Riddle and himself shortly after, but he immediately discarded the thought, recalling that Riddle had removed his wand from his person.

 

Harry was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Riddle getting back to his feet, his clothes righted, as if the boy hadn’t just completely debauched him, and a pleased smirk twisting his face.

 

Riddle looked like a fallen angel.

 

“Thank you, _Professor._ That was quite a treat. I do look forward to our next...evening.”

 

Riddle smiled and Harry blanched in disbelief.

 

 _A treat? Next evening?_ Harry could hardly believe his ears.

 

“You need to go to the Hospital wing. There can’t be a repeat of this. There _is no next evening,”_ Harry said as firmly as he could despite being completely naked, covered in both his own and Riddle’s cum, and tied down to the dirty floor.

 

“Oh, Professor. I don’t think you quite understand,” Riddle whispered.

 

Harry’s blood ran cold at the sinister tone in the boy’s voice.

 

“You belong to me,” Riddle continued walking closer to Harry’s trembling form with a dangerous gleam in his dark eyes.

 

_I need to get him to Madam Pomfrey somehow._

 

“No matter where you go, no matter where you will think to hide, I will always find you. Your scent will always lead me right to _you_.”

 

_What the fuck was in that bloody potion?_

 

“And if you try to escape, I can assure you that things will not be very...pleasant for you. You slept with your student, and I am _sure_ that if I were to say something on the matter, the Wizengamot will not be pleased.”

 

Harry was speechless.

 

“Now then, let’s get you cleaned up. I am sure your colleagues are wondering just where you are.”

 

Harry had never felt this fucked in his life. Both literally and figuratively.

 

He was caught between a rock and a hard place, and guessing from the pleased smirk on Riddle’s face, he knew it too.

 

Well then, Harry would just have to think of something. The boy wouldn’t be in Hogwarts forever.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please mind the additional tags that have been added. 
> 
> Here I tie up the loose ends from the first. Leave kudos or comments. This is still an open ending, make with this what you like. The story is OFFICIALLY over lol.

" _ Professor _ ."   
  
Harry flinched, shuffling through his papers as quickly as he could when he recognized the voice that had broken through the stampede of students rushing out of class. He knew it was fruitless to ignore the boy, to pretend that Riddle had not spoken at all as the room quickly emptied. But toss it, Harry was not going to make this easy.   
  
Riddle had, thankfully, fucked off for several weeks since...the incident. A perk that Harry had all but seized after he had given Madam Pomfrey a sample of the potion Riddle had created. The woman was able to mend the mistake he had made, but Harry could not shake the fact that perhaps it hadn't been the potion at all. He did not feel any different since taking the potion the mediwitch had so generously provided.   
  
But Harry had thought nothing of it then, attributing the lack of side-effects as simply good luck. He had more than enough of that, even if that unfortunate Friday afternoon made him wonder if it had finally run out…

So the days passed without issue. None of his students had suddenly felt compelled to sexually assault him down the halls. 

And Riddle, for all his threats that unfortunate afternoon, had done absolutely nothing. There were no strange things being mailed to his office, and no intense staring by the boy in question. 

Everything was at peace.

And yet, something just didn’t sit right about the whole thing. 

This was not even touching on the fact that Harry, try as he might, could not forget that horrid afternoon when Riddle sexually assaulted him in the middle of his classroom. He just couldn’t get the boy’s words out of his head, and then there was the issue of recalling, with disgusting alacrity, the things the boy had done with his hands.

Harry shuddered despite himself, his eyes boring into the papers between his hands.

It certainly didn’t help that every time the boy so much as looked in his direction, Harry would flush and squirm uncomfortably at his desk. Or, worse yet, whenever the boy stepped too close when Harry passed to review his potion, Harry would just bolt like a startled doe. It was humiliating how his feet just moved without his say, his body taking a hesitant step back to avoid all chance of touching him.

Harry knew that it was silly. He  _ knew _ for a fact that Riddle had not been himself. 

He shouldn’t have been treating the boy the way he had, but his mind refused to let him forget Riddle’s touch or the boy’s threats. 

At the time, Harry had practically shoved the boy over to Madam Pomfrey to deal with. He had seen for himself the precise second Riddle had been fed that disgusting remedy, having had to take that very same concoction himself.

It had seemed like Riddle had gathered himself, his flushed cheeks and dilated eyes replaced with bafflement. It certainly didn’t look like Riddle had been acting.

Riddle had looked as if he couldn’t recognize where he was and had even  _ asked _ Harry how he had even gotten there at all, seemingly unable to recall just how and when he had gotten all the way to the Hospital Wing with a rather disheveled Harry.

Harry remembered just how relieved he’d felt in that instant. It should have been enough for him to move on—to forget about the stupid things Riddle had said while drunk on the potion and return to how things were  _ before  _ the incident. But he couldn’t. Even when Harry was sure that Riddle had not, in fact, done it on purpose.

It was frustrating just how delicate the issue of Riddle was, but at least, whatever it was that Harry had seen, was only a one time thing, and had definitely not been the boy’s true character. It was  _ all  _ the potion, but... the doubts still remained. The questions and the theories begging that perhaps he was being too optimistic about the whole thing, making him see shadows where there weren’t any.

There was still that whisper of doubt in the back of his mind urging him that Riddle was not who he seemed. A voice that sounded annoyingly like Dumbledore telling him that Riddle was evil incarnate. But Harry could not simply blame the boy for what a  _ potion  _ had led to. Even if it seemed like he did, even if he could not  _ forget  _ what had happened.

Harry had been drenched, and, if Riddle’s violent response was anything to go by, it had to have driven the boy mad.

Though silencing those doubts was a completely different matter. Just as he could not control his own subconscious reactions to the boy, he could not silence that doubt.   


Riddle may not have acted or done anything strange since, but Harry swore he could see strange emotions flicker in the boy’s eyes. It was unidentifiable, but it was a flicker of just  _ something  _ that had Harry’s nerves fluttering with unease.

But it couldn't be. When the whole event had exploded in such a terrible fashion, Harry’s own panicked movements enough to knock the boy out when he had been untied, Riddle was most assuredly out cold. And then, after begging for Madam Pomfrey to fix him and to do something about Riddle, the boy had woken up as if nothing happened.

Harry had seen it with his own eyes, had seen the confusion flicker in the boy’s gaze. It was  _ real _ . There was no reason for Harry to believe that Riddle was going to hurt him or blackmail him into a sexual relationship, yet—   
  
" _ Professor _ ," Riddle crooned.

Harry’s body locked, gooseflesh breaking out along the nape of his neck.

The sound was unmistakable. 

It was a pitch that Harry heard over and over in his head. It was the same sultry, breathy sound that haunted him in his dreams, that promised both completion and pain. It was a tone that hearkened back to the moment Riddle had pushed into him and ripped out far too many pleasured screams from his lips.

And Harry did not know how to react in that second. His stomach twisted, and Harry wanted nothing more than to storm out of the classroom. It was like a spark of electricity shooting up his neck.

But there was something rooting him place, a voice that sounded oddly like his own whispering in the back of his mind. But it couldn’t be. It urged Harry to stay, to see what it was that Riddle wanted to say. It challenged him, dared him to flee like some scared kitten.

It was both alarming and infuriating.   
  
Harry’s throat tightened, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, as he considered his options. Riddle had not done  _ anything  _ to set him on edge yet, he was simply standing behind him with a question. It was the boy’s typical routine, there was  _ nothing  _ to be afraid of.

_ But the way he said it… _

Harry shoved his panic aside, forcing himself to remain calm and entirely composed. This was only a question, nothing more. Sure, Riddle may have sounded like he had all those weeks ago, but the boy had not said anything remotely threatening. 

_ He is just standing behind you as you sort through your things. That is perfectly harmless... _ Harry reasoned, and just as he was about to turn around to consider him, Harry was stopped, his mouth parting in surprise when a warm hand pressed up against his shoulder.    
  
It was a light, soft touch of fingers. So gentle, in fact, that Harry might not have felt it at all had it not glided down to the center of his back, and shot adrenaline straight to his gut.   
  
"M-mr. Riddle, class is over. It's a Friday."   
  
It was a pitiful sound, one that Harry was tempted to kick himself for making. He was a  _ professor _ , for bloody sake.

Harry took in a deep breath. He tried to turn around to face the object of his unrest, but the warm hand pressed against his back prevented from moving. It became more firm, more unyielding at Harry’s resistance.

Harry scowled when he tried to push back harder, but Riddle only responded by pushing harder. As if any sign of resistance would be met with even more force.

Harry swallowed audibly, his nerves shot when Riddle’s other hand came up to caress the back of his neck, Harry’s panic bursting to life when Riddle’s skin met his. It reminded him of that bloody afternoon where those same hands pressed into his skin, of those very same fingers pressing inside, of the memory of Riddle’s cock teasing along his arse and pushing—   
  
"Tell me something, Harry..." Harry was startled from his musings by the sound of Riddle’s curious tone, his voice so light and airy that, if Harry had not been assaulted by this very same young man weeks before, he might have mistaken it as innocent. "...Did you really think that I had forgotten?"   
  
_ No. _

With adrenaline shooting through his veins, Harry twisted around, his hand slipping into his pocket to seize his wand tightly between his fingers, and point it at the boy. 

His breath was coming fast, but Harry did not waver, his stance was tight as a spring. 

Standing less than a meter away, Riddle towered over his average height. 

It was totally unfair. Both aggravating and irritating that someone so young could be so bloody imposing. Riddle was only  _ seventeen _ , and yet, even with such a youthful face he was a force to be reckoned with. His student was no ordinary boy, not when he looked more and more demonic with each passing second.

Riddle was not a professor, and as talented as he was, he  _ certainly  _ wasn’t as proficient as Harry was when it came to magic. Though admittedly, Harry had never seen the boy duel, but that hardly mattered. Harry was older, and had actually lived through battle.

Riddle had none of his experience. All he had was presence and raw talent. But what did talent matter if you had yet to test it out in a real world setting? Sure, Riddle had surprised him weeks prior when the whole potion fiasco occurred, but that was only because he had caught Harry entirely off guard. 

Harry refused to be intimidated by a bloody teenager.

However, don’t let it be said that he’d underestimate him. He’d already made that mistake when Riddle had caught him by surprise before. Harry would not do it again, especially if Riddle was planning to do something now.  _ If  _ he planned to do something. Though, for all of Harry’s tenacity, it didn’t stop the sliver of unease from traveling straight from the balls of his feet to the back of his head. 

Riddle had a strange look to him, and Harry did not like it in the least, reminding him too much of how beasts looked at their prey—of cat-like eyes narrowing before opening their mouths to sink their fangs into the throats of their quarry.

He was like a fly caught in a spider’s web and he hated it.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand when Riddle’s lips quirked into a smile, the burning in the boy’s eyes making him look more demonic than human in that second.

"What are you saying?" Harry hedged, cursing internally from the hesitation in his voice, his discomfort so obvious that there was little doubt that Riddle had noticed. Harry was practically advertising it with his tensed shoulders and his wide, panicked eyes.   
  
But he was nervous. He couldn’t help it any more than startled deer could help flinching away from the sound of a twig snapping on the ground.   
  
Harry was thoroughly spooked. There was no denying this fact. He would have to be bloody stupid to not be. Riddle was a threat.

_ But what kind? _ Harry thought, watching the way Tom tilted his head to one side to consider him.

Harry did not dwell long on that thought, tensing his fingers when he saw Riddle’s lip twitch. It didn’t matter what kind of threat Riddle was. Especially when Riddle looked as if he were up to something completely nefarious.

Harry exhaled sharply when Riddle’s lips broke out into a grin, his teeth gleaming white beneath the lit sconces of the room. Tom was like a shark, like a predator with its jagged teeth and wide mouth preparing to tear into a person’s arm. 

This did little to assuage his worried thoughts, his heart beating so quickly in his chest that Harry wondered if it might just fail him. 

Harry tried to tell himself that Riddle was just a  _ student  _ but that reasoning did nothing to calm his nerves. Student or no, Riddle could still do some damage— _ and had done some damage _ —Harry amended viciously.    


Harry watched the way the shadows danced along the boy’s aristocratic features: his sharp jaw and nose, somehow looking lethal beneath the darkness. 

_ Like a demon prince… _ Harry thought grimly, taking in the boy’s meticulous appearance before catching Riddle’s gaze.   
The boy’s eyes were glowing brightly in the dimly lit room, the black glittering like precious gemstones beneath the sun. The sight made something in Harry’s stomach clench, and he quickly turned his gaze away, focusing instead on the skin right between the boy’s brows. 

The darkness lurking in that gaze was too much for even Harry to handle. It brought forth one too many memories of that afternoon to be permitted, so Harry decided right then and there that he was not going to go there.

Harry had had more than enough of that darkness to last him a lifetime.   
  
Sure, it was admittedly a little cowardly to turn one’s gaze away. It was a sure fire way of showing someone that you had lost the battle for dominance; Harry knew all this. But Harry just couldn’t do it. His instincts were shouting too loudly in his head for him to ignore this. 

He’d already made that mistake once before, possibly even twice considering how easily he had eaten the boy’s ploy of confusion weeks prior. But no more. Harry refused to be fooled again.   
  
"Harry, the potion was never real. I remember  _ everything _ ," Riddle breathed the words out, stepping closer despite the wand pointed right at his chest.   
  
Harry had suspected Riddle had been playing him, but to have the suspicion confirmed so suddenly threw Harry for the loop. His mouth parted in shock, disbelief making his cheeks flush.

Harry’s surprise and disbelief vanished then, the emotions giving way to bitter, and unfiltered rage.   
  
"You son of a—" Harry spat, but was promptly cut off by the boy suddenly laughing, his dulcet voice ringing around the empty room like church bells.   
  
Harry's skin crawled.   
  
" _ Do _ finish that sentence. Give me the reason I need to lay you over that filthy desk and make you scream."   
  
Harry’s mouth parted, but no sound came out. Words were lost on him, stolen from his lips when Riddle stepped closer still and pressed his hand against his wand, pale fingers caressing its tip.   
  
"Go on then, Harry. If you dare," Riddle challenged, the steel in the boy’s voice snapping Harry right out of his shocked stupor, his emerald eyes narrowing into thin slits in anger. 

He shoved the panic as far to the back of his head as was permitted, and squared his shoulders to sneer at the smiling boy.

“ _ Unless you’re scared _ ,” Riddle whispered then, and Harry clenched his jaw in irritation. Riddle looked both amused and smug as he said the words, the stupid twist of his lips enough to make righteous indignation swell like writhing snakes within Harry’s chest.

It was stupid to let himself be goaded in that way, but Harry just could not stand how self-satisfied the boy looked.

_ Fuck him _ , Harry thought with a snarl, ready to snap the boy’s head off. Harry cast aside the voice niggling in the back of his head that he should be more careful, that he should be afraid, drawn in by the comfort of his anger. 

Harry was  _ not  _ a bloody coward. He was a Gryffindor, not some timid first year in Ravenclaw Riddle could bully. Harry was a  _ professor  _ and he refused to come off as some timid rat.

Harry could wipe his arse with the boy’s threat.   
  
With a disgusted twist of his lips, Harry narrowed his eye and spat the word.   
  
" _ Bitch _ —"   
  
" _ Expelliarmus. _ "

And then Harry's wand was ripped from his hand, his eyes widening into saucers when Riddle's toothy smile broke into a dangerous grin.

Riddle’s eyes were glittering with malicious glee, and Harry gathered himself then to ram his fist into the brat’s face.

Riddle twisted away from Harry’s fist, dodging it just in time, before he grasped tightly onto his wrist, squeezing it so ferociously between his fingers that Harry could not stifle his cry of pain. His leg kicked out in response, his breaths coming fast as Riddle grabbed onto his other leg, and pulled.

Harry lost his balance, his eyes widening when Riddle used Harry’s momentum to shove him against his desk, his lower back digging painfully into the unforgiving wood.

“At a loss for words?” Riddle mused, and Harry spat at the boy’s face, flinging his hand out to wipe the stupid grin on the boy’s face.

Harry hit soft flesh, the burst of pain against his knuckles delicious when Riddle’s grip slackened momentarily and the boy released a pained hiss.

Harry tried to pry himself from within the boy’s grip, but Riddle recovered quickly, his other hand reaching out to backhand Harry.

Harry tasted blood, shocked that the boy had managed to land a hit at all. Harry had hit him with everything he had, he had not expected Riddle to deliver something like  _ that  _ in return. At least, not so quickly after his blow.

“You should not have done that, Professor,” Riddle hissed before he wrenched Harry’s arm up and back, flipping Harry around on the desk. Papers and quills clattered to the ground, ink wells and knick knacks Harry kept from his old years in Hogwarts dropping to the floor when Harry’s free hand shot out to find his balance.

Harry groaned when his stomach slammed against the wood, his free hand smacking uselessly on the desk when Riddle continued to push his arm further up. It felt like the boy was going to break it, like the bone was going to tear away from muscle the more he pushed.

Harry whimpered from the pain, clawing at the desk as if to ground himself. 

“S-stop, you’re going to rip my bloody arm out!” Harry cried when it felt like a knife was cutting away at skin, the sharp pain shooting up his spine the more the boy pushed, and he felt his elbow settle low on his back..

“Perhaps that is my intention. Is that not the appropriate response to being hit?” Riddle said, his thighs pressing against the back of Harry’s legs. The warmth seared Harry to the bone, the small point of contact enough to remind him of the time Riddle had fucked him on the dirty floor.

Harry flushed in both humiliation and fear, his forehead breaking out into a cold sweat when Riddle finally stopped twisting his arm, but made no move to let up on the tight grip he had on the limb.

“...Although, I suppose there are other means to make you submit. I am sure you are familiar with those methods…” Riddle’s voice lost the iciness then, one hand grasping onto Harry’s flailing arm to force it against his back.

“...No, you can’t do this. T-this isn’t right,” Harry gasped when there was a whisper, the words too low for Harry to hear, and something coarse twisted around Harry’s wrists and Riddle finally relaxed his hold on Harry’s arm.

Before Harry could think of fighting off Riddle’s body, Riddle grasped onto Harry’s bound wrists and forced them out above Harry’s head. There was another whisper, the boy’s soft voice the only thing Harry could make out, before he was no longer able to move them.

Harry tried to twist away, to kick back, but Riddle simply pressed his knee between legs, the friction enough to draw a surprised grunt from Harry’s mouth.

“A-anyone could walk in at any moment. P-please just stop,” Harry hated that he was begging but he had no other choice when Riddle had, once again, pinned him down without any way to move.

“Does the thought of being seen upset you so much, Professor? I do recall how hard you were when I looked at you,” Tom murmured from above him, and Harry flushed. His mouth opened and closed in indignation, the denial heavy on his tongue, but Riddle chose that instance to move rub his knee against his clothed cock and the words escaped him.

Harry groaned, the memory of the last moment flashing in the back of his mind. The pleasure had been immense, the pain and the heat enough to sweep him away as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his life. 

Riddle knew what he was doing. Where the boy had learned this skill, Harry didn’t know, but that line of thought was lost when Riddle pressed something hard against his lower back, and his clothes dissipated like smoke.

Harry squirmed, his arms breaking out into gooseflesh at the cold air pressing against his skin. He was exposed once again, and the thought of it was enough to make Harry’s heart beat furiously.

This was just as the last time except it seemed that Riddle was up to something .There was something heavy hanging in the air, Harry could practically taste it in the back of his tongue, but what it was, Harry did not know. 

His curiosity burned, and Harry opened his mouth once more to ask, to know just what it was that Riddle planned this time aside from the obvious, if the grinding of the boy’s knee against his cock was anything to go by.

The last time, Riddle could not take his hands off him. Overwhelming him with pleasure, but not, Riddle seemed to taking his time, the hard object (mostly likely his wand, Harry thought) was pulled away from his back. 

“What are you planning?” Harry asked, and inhaled sharply when one warm hand smoothed along the back of his knee, his nails scraping against the skin. Harry’s thigh twitched before he tried to move away, but Riddle pressed closer stopping his efforts entirely.

Harry could feel the scratchy fabric of the boy’s secondhand trousers, and he gasped when the handle traveled higher up the back of his thigh until it was cupping one of his cheeks. 

“Punishment,” the boy said simply, and Harry yelped when the hand smacked his arse. It stung, the pain traveling all the way up to his spine as he tried to make sense of it. 

Harry could not believe it. Riddle was spanking him like some errant child. As if  _ he  _ were in the wrong for what the boy was doing. 

_ What the hell? _

“A-are you bloody spanking me?” Harry rushed out, and groaned when Riddle smacked his arse cheek against, his palm slapping into the same spot it had hit Harry earlier. 

“Did you just swear at me again, Professor? That is hardly appropriate. You  _ are  _ working in a public institution meant for learning.” Riddle tsked, and Harry bristled, grinding against the boy’s hip when Riddle slapped at his skin again.

And again. And again.

Harry yowled, the boy’s palm beating into the same spot over and over again despite how furiously Harry struggled beneath the boy’s body.

Harry’s right arse cheek felt like it was on fire, and with each smack, the sharp pain grew steadily worse and worse. He was going to have bruises if the boy just kept slapping away at him.

“Stop!” Harry cried out, but the boy ignored him entirely and slapped even harder in in response. Harry could hear the smacks echoing in the room, and his face flushed a bright red each time he jerked and Riddle’s knee pressed more firmly against his cock from behind.

He was growing stiff, and Harry wanted to die of embarrassment. 

“Apologize.” 

Harry grit his teeth in irritation, unable to repress another cry when Riddle began to spank him in earnest. His hits came quickly, beating into the same bloody cheek as if the boy had been personally insulted by that one cheek.

Harry would rather chew glass than apologize. He’d bear through this. 

“Sod off- _ ah! _ ”

Harry hissed when Riddle suddenly dug his nails into his arse cheek, scratching from the top of the swell of his arse down to the middle of his thigh. The scratch burned immensely, and Harry screamed when Riddle slapped the back of his thigh, the pain somehow even worse than being beaten against the sensitive swell of his bum over and over.

“I don’t mind keeping you bent over this desk. I can only imagine the looks of surprise on the faces of your students if they were to walk in right now and see you as you are, hard and dripping all over my knee with your arse a bright red.”

Harry moaned when Riddle rubbed against his cock, and the hand crept up to the inside of his thighs. Harry arched his back at the sensation, the ticklish sensation enough to make him press his arse more closely into Riddle’s crotch from the delicious jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine.

His ears felt as hot as the skin of his arse, his embarrassment and humiliation too much because the boy was  _ right.  _ He was so hard that it hurt.

“You like the punishment, don’t you?” Riddle crooned, and Harry’s legs shook when Riddle began to earnestly rub against his crotch and pinched at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. It hurt, the ache enough to make him struggle, but the boy continued toying with his flesh expertly. There was no hesitation, no sign of naivete in that touch. 

“The pain...the risk that someone could walk in and see you playing with the Headboy of all people. It  _ fascinates  _ you.” Riddle leaned down to the back of his head to whisper the words, the feeling of those warm lips and the memories of what that mouth had done enough to make his cock twitch in interest. 

Harry cursed himself for his reactions, unable to stop himself from whimpering when Riddle took his ear into his mouth and licked inside. The sensation was ticklish, and Harry cried out when Riddle released the skin he’d been pinching between his fingers and slapped at his other cheek.

It stung, but the pain hardly registered when Riddle was gyrating against him and the boy was teasing his ear. 

Harry’s mind was lost, and he knew that despite his embarrassment, that he was not unaffected. His cock was hard, aching between his legs with the teasing press of Riddle’s knee against his own. It was maddening, the friction between them.

He could feel the telltale pressure in the pit of his belly--the same one that he had felt right before falling head first into orgasm.

Harry didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to acknowledge that his body was careening out of control--that he wanted  _ release  _ even when his mind screamed at him to resist.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Y-you did this to me,” Harry murmured, his voice hoarse and weak when Riddle slapped his arse once more. The feeling of that palm against his naked skin made him lean back into Riddle’s knee to chase the ecstasy there. “Y-you forced yourself on me and look at what you’ve done. This isn’t- _ ah! _ ”

Harry whined when Riddle abruptly stopped moving, the smacks and the tantalizing friction of his knee against his cock gone.

Harry didn’t know whether he wanted to cry from relief or from frustration. He was aching, but there was no way he would voice such a thing.

“I forced myself on you? Perhaps. But you cannot deny that you did not  _ want  _ me. I merely sped up the natural progression of things,” Riddle hissed, and Harry’s vision swam when the boy stepped away and twisted him around.

Harry was shoved over the table, his hips hanging in the air before Riddle stepped between them and forced his right leg up to his shoulder.

It was a position that looked too similar to the one Riddle had put him in all those weeks before. It took Harry several seconds to notice the boy’s face, caught up in the memory of Riddle’s skin pressed against his own and the feeling of his cock ramming into his prostate over and over again. 

When Harry finally gathered himself and looked at the boy sitting between his legs, he gaped. Riddle was flushed, his forehead wet with sweat from beating into his arse repeatedly for the past few minutes, it seemed. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his dark eyes glittering with displeasure despite the way his eyes traveled from between his parted thighs, and up to drink him in. 

Harry felt the stare like a physical touch, and squirmed against his bindings when his cock twitched in interest underneath the boy’s gaze before those eyes settled on his ruddy face.

It was a blessing that the pain had stopped, but this new position, Harry knew, would be no better. It couldn’t be, not with the memory of what had happened the last time. Especially when Riddle was looking at him as if he were something to eat and punish.

“You were dancing around me, Professor. Nothing would ever have come of your attraction if I did not act now.”

Harry furrowed his brow at the boy, unsure. Surely his attraction had not been that obvious. He knew that Riddle was handsome, more than most. He could recognize that his stare had lingered too long on the boy, there was no helping that fact.

But that he would actually  _ act  _ on it? That Harry would actually attempt to date his own student? The notion was entirely absurd. 

The fact that Riddle had to go through such lengths was example enough that the boy was not mature enough for a relationship at all. It hardly mattered that Harry in fact had found him attractive and had admired the way he handled his peers. None of those good qualities could overcome the fact that Riddle had not only tricked him, but had... _ fucked _ him in the middle of his classroom, and then had blackmailed him.

“Are you out of your bloody mind? Y-you think that doing something like this is going to endear me to you? Even if I had been attracted to you, which I most certainly was  _ not _ , you betrayed my trust. I can’t possibly love you,” Harry sputtered, and eyes narrowing into angry slits when Riddle’s face blanked.

It was as if the boy had wiped all remnants of humanity from his flesh.

“I do not need your  _ love _ ,” Riddle murmured, his tone arctic as he spoke.

Harry felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end at that, eyes widening in surprise at the surprising bitterness in the boy’s voice.

“All I need is your _ submission.  _ And that, I can easily acquire.”

Harry gasped, back arching up unwittingly, when Riddle suddenly grabbed onto his hard cock, and stroked him between his fingers. His fingers were like velvet against his skin, the warmth seeping deep into the pit of his stomach.

“With just a twist of my fingers I can make you  _ sing _ . I can enslave your mind without the need of something as pithy as love,” Riddle said, his tone husky as he stroked him slowly. His thumb teased along the slit of his cock, and Harry whined from the sensation. 

Heat licked at his skin, and Harry hardly registered when Riddle whispered something underneath his breath and one of his hands was set free. 

“For instance,” Riddle began and Harry slapped his hand against the table when the boy’s hand squeezed the base of his cock tightly, and stopped moving. His frustration swelled beneath his chest and before Harry could think to tell Riddle to stop, the boy whispered something he’d never thought he’d hear leave the Headboy’s mouth 

“ _ Imperio.” _

Harry was drowning, the pleasant haze overtaking him completely like the warmth of his mother’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. It was thick and heavy, his mind swept away by the rich tenor murmuring within the inside of his mind. The sensation was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced before, the pleasure at the hands of the boy entirely unlike this sensation.

“ _ Take yourself in your hand _ ,” a voice crooned inside his head, and Harry obeyed. He reached out with his free hand and wrapped around his cock when the boy above him had let him go. 

“ _ Stroke yourself, slowly.”  _ Riddle’s voice was dancing along his senses, and Harry closed his eyes when he started to stroke and rub at the head of his cock. He could feel Riddle’s eyes on him, the memory of that black gaze consuming him like the thick cloud drowning his senses in bliss.

“ _ Yes, just like that. Shift further back and place your feet on the desk. I want to see all you.” _

Harry did not let go of his cock as he shifted further on the desk, the wood warm against his sore arse as he spread his legs open and placed his bare feet on the edges of the table.

The position was uncomfortable, but that stretch hardly mattered when the voice was coaxing him to keep going. When Riddle’s voice praised him and told him just how beautiful he looked with his hard cock leaking with his pre-cum and his arsehole exposed to the boy’s gaze.

“ _ I am going to release your other arm. Lightly touch your nipples, Harry. I want to see them harden while you look at me.”  _

Harry felt the weight of Riddle’s magic dissipate from his wrists, and he shot a hooded gaze into the hungry black of the boy’s gaze. Harry could see his desire, and heat traveled up his spine when Riddle bit his bottom lip at the sight of him.

Harry felt wanted, the haze clouding his senses all-consuming as he stroked himself slowly, from the base and up to to his head, thumb teasing his cockhole in a similar manner as Riddle had earlier. He arched his back when he pressed his fingers to his neck, his own hand cold from lying helplessly above his head earlier and trailing it down to his collarbone.

_ “Yess, good boy _ ,” the voice crooned, and Harry preened at the praise. His stomach fluttered pleasantly before lowered his hand further, his fingers teasing at his skin until he squeezed his right nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The pressure shot a spark of pleasure up his spine, and Harry arched his back, unable to help it when Riddle was looking deeply into his eyes and watching him.

Riddle’s eyes were black pools that threatened to drown him, more than the pleasant heat percolating in his brain, and more than the tingle of pleasure each time he squeezed his nipple and caressed the tip into hardness.

Harry moaned when he caught sight of Riddle delving into his robes and parting the fabric to delve into his trousers. Harry knew what the boy intended, the heat in his mind not so potent to deprive him entirely of his ability to note the way Riddle’s zipper broke the heavy silence of the room to slip inside.

Harry stared intently at flushed color of the boy’s cheeks as he pulled out his cock from his trousers, the swollen head beading with pre-cum.

“ _ Twist your nipple harder, Harry. I want to see you writhe in both pleasure and pain as you watch me stroke myself to the sight of you.” _

Harry could not fight the command, he squeezed his nipple tightly between his fingers, the pain making him cry out when his nail dug into the skin and Riddle began to touch himself.

Harry heard the way Riddle’s breaths broke, his groans spurring Harry’s own pleasured sounds. 

Harry's navel tightened, the familiar pressure of orgasm pulsing with the rapid beating of his heart. He was close, and Harry could not help but arch his back higher up, offering his cock and arsehole up to Riddle’s gaze the closer and closer he got.

The voice whispered into his mind, the promise of pleasure addicting. Harry did not think to fight it when it just felt so good to listen, when Riddle’s voice told him just how much of a good boy he was and how good he looked with his thighs quivering with pleasure. 

Harry lapped it all up, and he hardly noticed when Riddle stopped stroking himself, caught in the building pressure at his navel. He was close to orgasm, and just the thought of falling was a wicked thought in the back of his mind.

Harry wanted to cum, more than anything—to cum to Riddle’s stroking his own cock, to Harry’s fingers yanking and twisting harshly at his nipple, and to his hand palming his cock without stop.

“ _ Yess, Harry. You will cum, but I need you to do something for me,”  _ the voice crooned into his ear, and Harry shook his head eagerly. He’d do anything to get off, anything to feel the bliss take him completely and please the boy that watched him with hooded eyes. 

Riddle’s hair was in disarray, and his lips were red and wet. His pleasure called out to Harry’s own, like a siren to the sea. He’d do  _ anything _ .

“P-please I’ll do anything for you,”  _ Master.  _ The word hung heavily on Harry’s tongue, but it refused to leave his lips.

“ _ Put your fingers in your mouth, and suck them. Get them nice and wet for me, Professor.” _

Harry released his nipple instantly and opened his mouth, all while watching his student. His stuck his index finger inside his mouth, his tongue swirling around the digit as he watched Riddle, noting how the boy’s jaw ticked as if he were trying to restrain himself.

Harry’s cheeks hollowed as he pushed his finger further inside, gagging when he hit the back of his throat. But still, Harry persisted. The voice in the back of his head encouraged him to keep going, to keep sucking and wetting his finger like the good boy he was. And he did just that, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment when he felt a finger tease along the back of his thigh.

“ _ Another finger in your mouth, pet. You’re doing so well, I’m most pleased.” _

Harry moaned into his fingers, and pushed a second one inside without hesitation. His mouth felt stuffed, but Riddle’s order was law. He wanted to please Riddle more than ever. He was his pet, and Riddle was his master. 

The haze told him so, and Harry could not deny it. Not when a finger slid further down his thigh and teased along the rim of his arsehole. The sensation drove him wild, and Harry wanted more than anything for that finger to delve further inside and hit that delicious bundle of nerves sitting in that flesh.

“ _ One more finger, and I want you to prepare yourself for me. Show me how desperate you are for your master.” _

Harry whimpered, and shoved a third finger into his mouth. He gagged as he thrust it in and out, sucking and licking at his digits underneath Riddle’s gaze. He felt like he was on fire, like his skin might melt from his bones at any second if he kept going.

But he couldn’t stop now. His cock was hard and wet with his juices, and his master’s fingers were teasing his hole. His master wanted him to prepare himself well, to get himself ready for the cock jutting proudly from between his legs. 

And Harry would.

It was several minutes of sucking and licking before Harry was ready. He watched his master’s face as if in approval, and sighed when Riddle merely nodded. It was the permission he needed.

Harry parted his legs wider, before sliding his wet fingers past his thighs and touching his hole. It twitched beneath his fingers, and he groaned when he forced one inside without hesitation, his knuckle bumping against his cheeks as he twisted them to fit more comfortably.

It burned slightly, but Harry twisted his finger inside all while staring into Riddle’s face, unable to stop himself from moaning when his master’s hand touched along his hole where his finger was pushed in as far as it could go in his position.

“ _ Exquisite _ ,” his master purred and Harry shoved another finger inside. This stretch burned more than the last, but Harry did not stop. He scissored his fingers inside himself, biting his lip to stifle his pained sounds. It hurt a lot more than Harry had expected, but still, the saliva helped him push smoothly inside.

He twisted his fingers, and Harry nearly came when he bumped into his prostate, his grip on his cock pausing from the shock of pleasure that crawled up his spine.

“ _ Brush against it again. I want to see you fuck yourself on your fingers, Professor.” _

Harry whimpered, and rammed his fingers into it again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when he dragged his fingers out of his arse, and forced them back in repeatedly until the burn completely disappeared.

Harry closed his eyes before shoving a third finger in, the stretch more painful than the last, but the promise of pleasure under his master’s touch was more than enough to keep him going. The haze whispered promises of delight and ecstasy, and Harry wanted it all.

He wanted to be ruined completely. The thought of his master’s cock replacing his fingers was more than enough encouragement to keep him fucking himself with just his spit for lube. The haze whispered promises in his head, and Harry could not ignore the sultry tenor as it described the sound of his master’s cock forcing its way in, of the feeling of that thick shaft stretching his walls only for him.

Harry licked his lips, and whined when Riddle abruptly grabbed his hand and removed his fingers from his arse. 

_ “Squeeze your cock as tightly as you can and do not let go until I have given you permission.” _

Harry squeezed on reflex, and groaned from the pain. It was tight around the base, and Harry opened his eyes to shoot his master a pleading look. 

He wanted to cum, he knew holding on like this was only mean to delay his own satisfaction. 

“Please,” Harry begged, and Riddle smirked. His eyes glittered with delight, and Harry could only watch as Riddle whispered something underneath his breath before pressing his wet cock against his arsehole.

Harry squirmed with anticipation.

“ _ Scream for me _ .”

Riddle jerked his hips, and Harry screamed, the pleasant haze he had fallen into disappearing entirely at the feeling of the boy’s cock burying itself inside. It felt like he’d been split in half, the agony shooting painful sparks along his spine despite how well he had prepared himself. 

“T-take it out,” Harry cried out, eyes wet with unshed tears when Riddle continued to force himself inside until he was buried completely inside,  his thick girth stretching him beyond what three fingers could. 

And then the reality of what was happening crashed into Harry’s mind, the haze of the Imperious curse notably gone. His mind was once more his own, and Harry felt shock and humiliation swell within his chest. 

Harry recalled the things he said and the things he did just moments before. And almost immediately retracted his hand from his own cock as if burned, his digits wet with his essence. 

_ Oh god, what has he made me do? _

Harry winced when Riddle moved inside him, the pain shooting another jolt of agony down his spine. The sensation tore him away from the horror of the situation, and Harry shot Riddle a desperate look when the boy merely smiled at him sweetly.

It was a deceptive and cherubic look. One that had no business being on Riddle’s face at all.

_ Merlin, I had even been calling him master in my head… _

Harry cried out when Riddle suddenly grabbed his cock in his hand, and Harry gripped onto the boy’s wrists immediately. He tried to pry the boy’s hand off, but when Riddle squeezed it to the point of agony, Harry ceased.

His arse felt full and his cock felt like it would be crushed if Riddle squeezed the delicate flesh any further.

“I didn’t put the words in your head, Harry.”

Riddle said, seemingly out of the blue. Harry shot him a glower, disbelief and anger twisting his insides into knots at the pleased look on the boy’s face. 

“Your mind is stronger than most. And yet you sank into the Imperious curse readily. You practically leaped into the warmth and seized it between your hands.”

Harry gasped when Riddle pulled back, his cock rubbing against the walls of his arse. It burned less than it did the first time he’d forced his way inside, but it was still not a comfortable sensation. It was a relief to feel the fullness dissipate, but Harry knew that this was only a temporary reprieve. 

His thoughts were drawn back to the last instance where Riddle had slipped inside, and Harry shuddered, unable to erase the memory of his cock slamming into his prostate until he could no longer recognize himself.

“It was beautiful to watch you fall, to sink into the abyss knowing the consequences of such a thing. You could have fought it, Harry. But you  _ didn’t _ .”

Harry cried out when Riddle thrust back in, his cock brushing against his prostate. His shaft rubbed along his walls, the burn melting into delicious friction that made his navel clench and his cock twitch from within Riddle’s hand.

“It was almost as sweet as your cries when I took you for the first time—to hear you beg for me to give you release. I wonder what I can make you do now, Harry. I wonder what depraved desires you hold inside that you want me to exploit…”

Harry flushed, mouth opening and closing in shock as he tried to deny it. The Imperious curse was completely illegal and was disastrous to the mind. It was addicting and it left the victim with little capacity for control. 

Harry could not have fought it, could he? It was a difficult curse to toss aside. The warmth had been maddening, like the embrace of  loved one. 

_ But what of the desire in your belly? What of the heat licking across your mind?  _ A traitorous voice whispered into his mind and Harry saw white when Riddle pulled out and slammed back inside him, his cock ramming into his prostate once again.

_ Oh Merlin. _

Harry pressed his hand into his mouth when Riddle pulled back and rammed back in, unable to do anything else when he began to move more quickly and beat into his arse.

Harry could feel him to the base of his spine, could hear the soft gasps and the deep breaths of the boy each time he thrust inside. The sound echoed in his ears, and the pleasure overwhelmed him each time Riddle rolled his hips and hit him  _ just so. _

It was maddening, and Harry wanted to sob when Riddle began to stroke him furiously. The wet sound of his skin pulling back, of his wet head being teased by a dextrous finger enough to push him closer to the orgasm he’d been denied earlier while under the haze.

Harry didn’t want to look at Riddle, but his eyes were caught up by the way Riddle bit his lip and how his eyes flashed each time Harry cried out. He was not unaffected, he was as consumed by pleasure as Harry himself was. 

And then Riddle grabbed onto his leg and yanked his hips closer to thrust more deeply inside. Harry screamed, unable to stop his pleased moans when Riddle fucked into him with more ferocity than he had the first time. 

There was nothing gentle about his movements, Harry could hear the loud smacks of skin slapping against skin. It reminded him of when Riddle had spanked him with his hand, and Harry felt shame dig itself out of his chest when his cock swelled at the memory of his palm hitting his skin.

Harry was pathetic.

“Don’t you see, Harry? You may not love me, but you crave  _ this _ ,” Riddle groaned out the words, before leaning over Harry and slipping his arm around his waist.

Harry didn’t fight it, unable to resist when Riddle pushed and jerked him like he were some fine tuned instrument.

And then Riddle lifted him up, Riddle’s cock buried deeply inside and his hand playing with his cock before twirling Harry in his arms until Riddle was sitting on the desk, and Harry was sitting on his lap.

Riddle’s face was centimeters from his own. His lips were close enough that Harry could taste the boy’s breath, the tea and biscuit he had eaten for lunch wafting pleasantly against Harry’s nose.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, Professor. No one will know except for me. It can be our little secret between you and I,” Riddle murmured against his lips and Harry bit his lip. 

It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. His student had tricked him not once, but twice before. He had...forced him to come to terms with the fact that he himself may have been attracted to his student before the entire fiasco had commenced. And now, again, the very same student had backed him into a corner,  _ through the use of an Unforgivable curse. _

Riddle had to be bloody insane if he thought that Harry would agree to this. There was no way that he would.

“...Unless you would prefer that I share this information with someone else. I would prefer you do things of your own volition. It will grow dull having to...encourage your participation each time I would like to take you.”

Harry grit his teeth before shooting Riddle an angry look, already knowing for a fact that he was stuck. Riddle’s cock was already buried in his arse, and the boy’s hand was clasped around his prick.

Riddle had already shown his true colors. He was not above blackmailing Harry. He had to play his game until he managed to get himself out of this. 

Riddle smirked up at him then, and Harry glowered at him before lifting his hips and plunging himself on Riddle’s cock.

Harry groaned, electricity running along his nerve endings when Riddle thrust up to meet his own thrusts, his cock bumping into his prostate directly. Riddle’s hand began to move once again, his palm stroking him in time with his thrusts.

And then Riddle pressed his lips against Harry’s mouth, a warm tongue licking at the seam of his mouth. Harry gasped when Riddle thrust up as he undulated his hips down, and he felt Riddle’s tongue delve inside. 

He tasted like biscuits, and Harry drank in the taste. Uncaring of the fact in that precise second that he’d been blackmailed. Not when he was ready to cum.

“Good boy, Harry. That’s it, move your hips and take me entirely,” Riddle said after pulling away from Harry’s lips for a second, his dark eyes boring into Harry’s clouded emerald gaze. 

The abyss beckoned and Harry let himself be swept away. He kissed Riddle fiercely, sucking in Riddle’s tongue into his mouth as he bobbed his hips to take Riddle’s prick deeper inside, slamming his prostate each time.

Harry’s chin was wet with his saliva, but it hardly mattered to him then. Riddle pressed Harry closer with his strong grip on his waist, and Harry wrapped his arms around Riddle’s neck to bring him closer. 

Riddle’s tongue teased along his gums, the roof of his mouth, and played with his tongue, and Harry moaned into the kiss. Lost to the heat and the glittering in the boy’s eyes as he himself fell into the haze of ecstasy. 

Riddle’s lashes were long and black, fluttering each time Harry clenched his arse against his cock and plunged deeper inside. 

Harry may have lost this battle, but he would not be the only one to lose. He would take Riddle down with him. He would drown Riddle in bliss just as easily as he was consumed by the twist of desire churning in his belly.

Harry bit softly on Riddle’s tongue, and the Riddle’s eyes flashed predatorily. The heat in his gaze shooting both fear and desire in Harry’s gut as Riddle’s pace increased and Harry’s orgasm crept steadily closer.

Riddle ripped his lips away from Harry’s lips, and kissed his way down to his neck. The heat lapped at the base of his spine, the pressure of Riddle’s hands twisting and teasing his cock, and his cock beating into his arse a combination that forced Harry to the edge.

He was treading it, the promise of pleasure so close that Harry whimpered, unable to stifle the sounds when Riddle ripped sound after sound each time he slammed into his prostate.

“Let yourself fall, let me inside—into your mind—into your heart,” Riddle purred into his ear, his hot breath fanning across the sensitive skin making him clench automatically around Riddle’s cock. 

“I’m close, M-merlin- _ ah! _ ’ Harry cried out when Riddle’s lips dropped down to his neck and sank his teeth into the delicate skin. He didn’t savage the skin—it was no more than a soft pressure against his neck, but it was enough to tip Harry over the edge. 

Harry’s mouth parted into a silent scream, his eyes closing shut as the white haze overtook him. Riddle’s teeth were digging harder and harder into his skin, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. 

“ _ Mine _ .”

Harry splattered his cum all over both his and Riddle’s stomach, the fabric of the boy’s trousers reminding Harry then that the boy was still mostly dressed. But that hardly mattered, not when Riddle kept thrusting inside and abusing his prostate.

“O-oh, please no more.” The pleasure had become too painful, and Harry babbled obscenely to get Riddle to stop, to get the boy to cum and relieve him from the torture because he would  _ lose his bloody mind  _ if Riddle kept touching his prick and ramming into his prostate.

And just as Harry was about to cry, to beat the boy off of him, Riddle thrust three more times before Harry felt something warm shoot through his insides. 

Harry panted, and watched the boy as his eyes shut, and mouth parted to release a guttural moan. It was deep, enough to make the bones in Harry’s body rattle with the sound.

It was a rich sound, one that Harry did not expect Riddle to be capable of. Not after the near silence the last time Riddle had fucked him.

He watched the way Riddle’s black eyes appraised him, the way those lips parted before spreading into a wide, mischievous grin. It made Harry nervous, but he did not let it show. He couldn’t afford to show his reservations now that he had fallen this far. He needed to play this game, temporarily, but he needed to play nevertheless.

Harry would get out of this somehow.


End file.
